


Five Times Angel Took Care of Wesley During Angel Investigations' First Year (As Told By Cordelia)

by Kivrin



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Ficlet, Humor, M/M, POV First Person, top five
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-09
Updated: 2010-02-09
Packaged: 2017-10-07 03:28:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kivrin/pseuds/Kivrin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cordelia sees a lot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Angel Took Care of Wesley During Angel Investigations' First Year (As Told By Cordelia)

5\. That time we exorcised a really minor poltergeist from this completely over-designed hipster bar, and the cheapass owner wouldn't actually pay us but said we could drink free for a night, and no matter how much I flirted with the bartender he wouldn't comp us even a basket of IPA-battered herb-salted fried potato wedges. Wesley had _four_ Smirnoff Razzmatazz Cosmopolitans and two dishes of cocktail peanuts, so he spent twenty minutes telling Angel how much he respected him and how hard he would work for him and then sat down in the corner and put his head on the cheesy lacquered table moaning "come, sweet death" and "tell the Slayers I'm sorry I failed them." Angel got the bartender to give him a quart of ginger ale (I should have gotten _Angel_ to flirt with the bartender) and a whole pitcher of ice, and he made Wesley drink the soda in little sips, and bought an asiago-and-sundried-tomato-pesto pizza pretending he wanted it and then pretending he didn't like it so Wes would have to eat it. It was totally clumsy but Wesley was drunk enough not to see through it.

4\. The allergies thing, turns out, _wasn't_ totally made up to cover emo meltdowns. As I found out the day he came in late because he'd walked because his eyes were too bleary to drive. I know, I know, what grows in LA? Not much, but whatever does, it was turning Wesley into the pink-eyed monster. Ew and EW. Angel totally couldn't figure it out, and of course Wesley was being really _loudly_ stoic about it. But finally Wes admitted he was totally whacked on antihistamines, and Angel took him downstairs to sleep it off.

3\. When Wesley called his family to give them his new address he had to do it from the office because he didn't have a phone at his apartment, which was probably even more horrible than the crappy room I had before I got the place with Dennis. I was running lines for acting class, so I didn't listen, but Mr. Social Skills in the other office probably used his super hearing and got both sides of the conversation. Anyway, Wesley was sitting at my desk looking like someone had just stomped on his teddy bear, and Angel came out and just looked at him for a minute and then said "Wes? I've got to touch base with some sources. You got a few hours to come with me?" I said "You mean you're going to go kick the crap out of some minor demons." And Angel said, "Well, yeah. Wesley?" And Wesley said "Just let me get my adze."

2\. The last time Wesley wore the leather pants, they split, (yes, _there_) and Angel loaned Wes a pair of his, which didn't fit at all but which I'm not sure he ever got back.

1\. So, you know, when _I_ have the killer death cold I stay home and watch Jerry Springer, like a normal person, unless I have an audition, in which case I need to go out anyway, and so I might as well go to the office and get my paycheck, right? Just for a _minute_, though. So it was totally not fair for Wesley to say that I got him sick and so I shouldn't complain about him croaking and sneezing and coughing like a contagion demonstration. The sniffling, oh my god. I was ready to cut his head off. Angel, though, ANGEL went through the sewers to the supermarket and came back with eggs and milk and _oatmeal_ to make this thing called a posset. Which he gave to Wesley, and which looked like puke, but, okay, smelled sort of tasty, in an old Irish grandma kind of way. Angel watched Wesley drink it like he was watching JFK on the red phone with Moscow, or something, and when Wesley said it was good, Angel smiled like he'd just, like, saved the world or something.


End file.
